The Unexpected and the Transcendent
by Someone aka Me
Summary: "When his mother asked when he was going to provide her with a grandkid, Charlie is pretty sure she didn't expect it to happen like this." Charlie adopts a grieving teenager and maybe meets the love of his life. :: Charlie/Draco; asexual!Charlie.


For my dearest Sam, for GGE 2017.

Thanks to Bex for looking this over!

 _Challenges:_ Sex Ed Extra Credit (write about someone raising a child); Resolutions (fifty fics, new AU (single parent)); OTP WC (OTP's first kiss); Character Appreciation (Theme: Looking after your friend's child); Book Club (Edilio **:** (event) funeral, (restriction) must feature a slash pairing, (emotion) anger); TV Show (Mycroft Holmes: (object) umbrella, (word) protective, (character) Percy Weasley); Weekly Tea challenge (Deliciously Dreamy - Write about a character who would be considered 'deliciously dreamy'.); Buttons (Pairing: Ginny/Harry; AU: adoption; Character: Scorpius Malfoy; word: repeat, object: picture frame; dialogue: "Why do I bother?"); Showtime (dialogue: "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."); Stickers (Malfoy Manor — write about a pureblood); 365 prompts (Sexuality: Asexual); Insane House (Plot point: moving in to a new apartment); Dueling Club (Holly Wand; AU: single parent; Character: Charlie Weasley; Quote: there is nothing permanent except change; Pairing: Arthur/Molly; word: bewitch(ing)); Dragons; FF writing month.

.

When his mother asked when he was going to provide her with a grandkid, Charlie is pretty sure she didn't expect it to happen like this.

Then again, he's not sure anyone could have predicted this.

He stares at the wreckage where Zoe, his best friend and favorite coworker, and her husband Jason used to live. He wonders if there's some sort of irony to Dragon Keepers being killed by fire that had nothing to do with the creatures they care for.

He swallows. His throat feels tight. _God, she was only forty two. Jason was only thirty nine._

Charlie wants to sit down in the middle of the street and cry. He wants to break apart, wants to let himself go.

 _He wants to mourn for her._

But he doesn't have the time.

He had to see it for himself; that's why he's here. But now he has to go.

He has to pick up Nicky.

 _God, Nicky_.

The kid is thirteen and he doesn't know yet that he's an orphan. _It isn't fair._

He can only thank every deity he can name that Nicky was sleeping over at his friend's house last night. It may be the only reason he's alive.

Charlie thought he was going to be a permanent bachelor, and here he is, in charge of a thirteen year old orphan. _Well_ , he thinks, _Mum always did say there was nothing permanent except change._

.

As soon as Charlie shows up, Nicky seems to know something is wrong.

"Where's mum? Charlie, where's maman?"

 _Fuck_ , Charlie doesn't know how to do this. He kneels so that he's at Nicky's level — the kid hasn't hit his growth spurt yet and is still tiny like his mother.

"There was an accident, kid. Your mum and dad… they both died. I'm sorry."

"No! That's not true. It can't be!"

Charlie is _so_ not qualified for this. "I'm sorry, but it is. I saw it."

Nicky's face crumples into a weird amalgamation of grief and rage. His hands form fists, and his eyes sprout tears.

"You're _lying!"_ he shouts, and he throws a fist a Charlie.

Charlie sees it coming, and lets it collide with his chest.

Charlie closes his eyes, and inhales before opening them again. Mrs. Nelson, Nicky's friend's mum, watches him with pity in her eyes.

"Kiddo, I know it's not what you wanna hear, but it's the truth. I'm not gonna lie to you. Have I ever lied to you before?"

Nicky sniffs, and then shakes his head.

"And I'm not gonna start now. I know it hurts, kid. It hurts me, and they weren't my parents. I know it's worse for you. But I made your mum a promise, a long time ago, when you were born. Do you know that that promise was?"

Mutely, Nicky shakes his head.

"I promised her that if anything, _anything_ ever happened to her and your dad, that I would take care of you. So that's what we're gonna do now, okay? I'm gonna help you, and maybe you can help me too?"

And suddenly, Charlie finds himself with an armful of sobbing teenager, black hair smushed into his chin, scrawny arms clutching at his back.

"Hey, I got you," he murmurs. "I got you. I'm right here." He keeps up a stream of soothing words, but never once does he say it's gonna be okay. Maybe they'll have to redefine what okay is.

..

Charlie takes Nicky back to his apartment. He cleans the sheets on his bed for the kid, and throws a blanket on his couch for himself. Something's got to change, he knows, but he's too busy planning funerals to work on it now. Zoelie's parents come in from France and fuss over Nicky and fuss over the funerals and fuss over Zoelie being buried here, but in the end they agree that it's in Zoelie's will that she be buried in the Reserve Cemetery with Jason, and so she will be. Charlie lets them take the reins on the funerals and takes the lead on dealing with a grieving, moody teenager. Nicky punches him three more times in the next week. The third time, Charlie gently catches his fist and says, "I know you're mad, but you've gotta stop taking it out on me." Nicky stomps off to the bed and hides under the blankets. Charlie finds himself glad that his apartment doesn't have any doors to slam.

The funeral is a week after their deaths. It's closed casket, because there isn't enough of them left for anything else. Nicky throws a vase. His grandmother chides him. Charlie understands this impulse.

Then the funeral is over, and the Beauchenes go back to France, leaving Charlie with a teenaged boy and no goddamn clue what to do. It's summer, but Nicky is enrolled at Beauxbatons, where his mother went, and Charlie isn't going to take him away from his friends. But that only sorts out the fall, which is still two months away.

"How would you feel about leaving the country?" he asks Nicky.

"Please, get me out of here," Nicky replies.

And so they pack up and move to England.

With the amount of money he has saved and the bit of savings he got from Zoe and Jason (who knew kids were expensive and Charlie was not a rich man), he manages to rent a small two bedroom near his parents place. He is thirty five years old and he has a kid and he refuses to live with his parents.

He is not, however, too proud to accept their help.

The first night in Britain, when their apartment lies empty and cold and barren, Charlie takes Nicky to the Burrow. It's just his parents living here full time, ever since Ginny married Harry, and they welcome the company. He's sent them a letter, explaining what happened, and when he arrives at the Burrow, Molly throws her arms around him and says, "Oh, Charlie."

Charlie squeezes her tight, breathes in her warm scent, and tries not to let the familiarity of home make him cry. "Hi, mum," he says, his voice tight.

She lets him go, pulls back with her arms on his shoulders, and says, "You're always welcome here, love."

Charlie inhales heavily, and then says, "Right now, there's nowhere else I'd rather be. Thanks, Mum."

And then Molly focuses on Nicky, who is half attempting to hide behind Charlie, which is really only working because he's still a short kid, and Charlie has never been tall.

"Hello there," Molly says. "Would you like a cup of tea? Or a glass of water?"

Nicky hesitates, and then, eyes wide, he nods. "Tea, please," he says softly.

Charlie remembers all over again how grateful he is for his mother.

His father is standing in the doorway to the living room, watching over them as his mother takes Nicky to the kitchen.

"How're you doing, kiddo?"

It doesn't seem fair that he's forty-two years old, and his father can still make him feel like a child. Charlie's face crumbles, and his shoulders sag. "I don't know what I'm doing, Dad."

Arthur takes a few steps forward and puts a hand on Charlie's shoulder. "God knows I never did either. But you've got a good heart, and you already love that kid. That's what's important."

Charlie runs his hand through his hair, the length reminding him of exactly how long it's been since he's been home.

"That kid just lost his entire fucking world, Dad. How am I supposed to… What do I even _do_? I don't know how to be a dad! You know I never thought… fuck."

And yeah, Charlie's dad knows, because Charlie told him when he was twenty four and stressed as hell that his mum wanted grandchildren. Told him that he wasn't interested in sex, with anyone. That he thought he could fall in love, but the whole idea of sex just seemed weird and… kind of gross? He told his dad that he was terrified of disappointing his mum, but that he just didn't think he could ever have a child of his own.

And Arthur had taken this in stride and said, "Charlie, your mother and I love you. No matter what, okay? And, yes, your mother would like grandchildren, but she has six other children to get them from. I'm sure at least one of you will have children. And if you don't, your mother will get over her disappointment, and love all of you anyway." He had hugged his son, and he had told him, while fiercely looking him in the eye, "We are so proud of you."

Charlie had broken down in tears.

And so his dad knows exactly why Charlie never expected to have a kid.

"Kid, you've spent the last two decades and more caring for _dragons_. I don't think a teenager is going to give you many problems you can't solve."

Charlie huffs out a laugh, and hugs his dad tightly.

"We're here. Whenever you need help, we're here."

Charlie breathes a little easier than he has since seeing the wreckage of Zoe's house.

…

Just because everyone has moved out, doesn't mean they don't visit. Harry and Ginny both have the next day off of work — Harry because he's an Auror who works odd hours, and Ginny because she and the Harpies had a match the day before. They drop by in the morning with James, Albus, and Lily. James is 13, Al 11, and Lily 9. Nicky seems wary of them at first, but the Potter children ask him if he's ever de-gnomed a garden, and soon enough all four children are throwing garden gnomes.

Charlie can't help hovering by the window, watching.

Harry comes up next to him, watching as well. "Terrifying, isn't it?"

"Hmm?"

"Becoming a father. There's nothing else like it." Harry's eyes fix on James. "Scared the everloving shit out of me, and I'd faced Voldemort like six times by then." He looks at Charlie. "'S worth it, though." When Charlie doesn't say anything, Harry turns back to the window.

"He seems like a great kid," Harry eventually says.

"He is," Charlie says without hesitation. "He's lost his whole goddamn world and he's still fighting. Charlie glances back into the house, where his mum and dad are standing in the kitchen, Mum at the sink and his dad behind her, arms wrapped around her. "God, I can't even imagine."

He turns to Harry, and Harry is searching his face. "Do you mind if I talk to him? About… I mean, I know a few things about being an orphan."

Charlie shrugs. "You could probably empathize better than I could. If you think it might help."

Harry nods, and goes back to watching the children de-gnome.

Charlie wonders if it's a bad sign that people are already offering help, as if he can't do this himself. Then he realizes that he _can't_ do this himself. He's grateful that he has people willing to help.

…

Harry catches Nicky after lunch, where Nicky is sitting on the couch in the living room, coloring a coloring book full of unicorns that Charlie had helped him pick out before they moved. James, Albus, Lily, and Ginny have gone out to play Quidditch, but when they'd asked Nicky along he'd just shaken his head. Charlie isn't surprised. Nicky has always liked to have both feet anchored on the ground.

Harry sits down next to him, and Charlie moves to hover in the doorway as Harry starts asking about the unicorn Nicky is coloring. Harry looks comfortable, easy, and Charlie wonders if he'll ever feel like that with Nicky. Harry asks Nicky if he can color, and the kid nods easily and pulls out a page.

Charlie isn't sure what happens, but somehow Harry manages to neatly segue into talking about Nicky's parents without Nicky crying or punching anything, which seems like some sort of miracle.

"My parents died when I was a kid," Harry says, "Except, instead of being a teenager, I was just a baby. I never knew them. Sometimes, I thought maybe that was better. That way there was nothing to miss, right?"

Nicky sniffles a little, but he nods, as though he's had this thought.

"Yeah," Harry says. "Except that didn't really make it any better. I still missed them. All the time. Only, I had nothing to remember when I wanted to think about them. I didn't know what my mum looked like when she laughed, or whether my dad ever took off his glasses. I didn't even know he wore glasses until I went to Hogwarts and people told me about him."

Nicky has stopped coloring and is staring at Harry, uncapped marker still dangling in his hand.

Harry sighs. "Look. Losing your parents sucks. I know. But it's gonna start to suck less. And you're going to hate that, because it's going to feel like you're betraying them. But you aren't. They'd want you to be happy. They don't want you to think about them and be sad all the time."

"I miss them," Nicky says, so softly Charlie almost doesn't catch it.

"I know. That doesn't really go away. But it fades, and it hurts less."

Nicky furtively wipes away tears with his sleeve. Harry turns back to the unicorn, giving him the privacy he seems to want.

…

Charlie leaves Nicky with his parents as he takes a Portkey back to Romania, shrinks all of his furniture, and says goodbye to the apartment that's been his since he moved here 25 years ago.

Zoe had asked him more than once why he never moved, as did Bill every time he came to visit, but Charlie had never felt the need for more room than his tiny studio could provide. He'd rented it at first because it was the cheapest place he could find with a relatively nearby Floo, because Charlie hates Apparating. For the first 8 years, he sent everything he could save to his parents, who were still supporting children in the house. But when Ginny graduated, his parents had stopped accepting his money, and Charlie had simply saved the rest. It's the reason he can afford to take this summer off without worrying, so in the end he's glad he never moved.

He packs the shabby couch. He packs the single twin sized bed. He packs the pots and pans and the umbrella from the stand and he packs his life, decades of it.

He looks around the barren apartment after shrinking and packing all of his possessions. He's not sure what kind of ending this is. He's on indefinite leave from the Reserve. He's planning to come back when Nicky returns to Beauxbatons in the fall, but that's two months away and who knows where his life will be in two months?

He takes a deep breath and Apparates away.

…

He takes Nicky with him to pick out his own bed and wardrobe. It is at this point that Charlie has the realization that Nicky has been living in a single weekend's worth of clothes for the last week.

"Jesus, kid, why didn't you say anything?"

Nicky shrugs, mutely. His face is set stubbornly. Charlie crouches down and tries to look him in the eye, but Nicky just looks at his shoes.

"Hey. Can you look at me?"

Nicky raises just his eyes, staring at Charlie through his dark fringe of bangs. Charlie's going to call that good enough for now.

"I'm not a Legilimens, you know? I need you to tell me, when I inevitably fuck things up. Like that. Shit, I probably shouldn't swear."

Nicky's lips twitch. "I'm thirteen; I'm not a nun. I know those words."

Charlie grins. "Thank god, because I'm really not good at the whole self-censorship thing. Anyway. I was saying. This is my first time attempting to parent, you know? And if you don't tell me what you need, I might not know. I'm gonna make mistakes. Probably a lot. I need you to call me out on them, okay?"

After a moment, Nicky nods solemnly. Charlie heaves a sigh, and then nods back and stands. "Okay. Good. Now let's get you some clothes."

…

So they set up the apartment together, and it's good, and Charlie thinks maybe he might be able to do this. He lets Nicky design his own bedroom, and Nicky asks for the walls to be green, and Charlie doesn't even flinch at the Slytherin color. They get him dark grey bedding and bright pillows and it actually starts to look like a room where someone lives. He doesn't have any mementos of his own, so after a moment, Charlie goes back to his room and retrieves a picture frame, setting it up on the little nightstand beside Nicky's bed.

It's the only picture he has of them.

Zoelie and Jason smile up at him, Zoe holding a baby Nicky in her arms. As he watches, they grin at the camera, wave, and then Zoe kisses the top of Nicky's head.

Charlie blinks at the picture, and only jerks his eyes away when he hears a small sob. Nicky is next to him, staring at the picture, tears streaming down his face.

Charlie reaches out, puts a hand on his shoulder, and tugs him into his side. They stay there until the tears stop falling.

…

Charlie feels like he might be getting the hang of this shit. He makes dinner for the pair of them — spaghetti, which is maybe not the most nutritious, but fuck, it's easy and he's spent all day putting together an apartment. Nicky seems to like it well enough.

After dinner, he asks Nicky if he'd rather wash or dry the dishes, and everything seems to go wrong all at once.

"You can't tell me what to do!"

Nicky stomps off, and the door to his room slams behind him. Charlie winces at the bang.

"Fuck," he says to the empty kitchen.

…

The next morning, Nicky acts as though nothing has happened. Charlie has no idea what he's supposed to do with this. He can't let the kid run roughshod all over him, but he's also very aware that Nicky is grieving the loss of his entire world, and that maybe he deserves a little patience right now. Charlie has no idea how he's supposed to balance this.

For now, he decides to ignore it.

Instead, he tells Nicky that his bedroom is his space. "I'm not going to come in without knocking, and you don't have to let me in. But you do have to respond. If you don't respond, then I have to come in for safety reasons, because I'm still in charge of your safety and that comes first. Do you understand?"

NIcky nods, so Charlie considers that conversation over and pours himself a cup of coffee. Nicky fetches himself an orange.

After breakfast, he takes Nicky to the Ministry, because he knows that he can't just stay in the country indefinitely without either a visa or citizenship.

This isn't technically Percy's job, but he's done it before, and he's gracious enough to have agreed to do it for them now. As they walk into his office, Percy stands, smiling with his eyes even as his face remains mostly serious.

"Charlie," he says, and his voice is warm. "It's been ages."

Charlie grins back at him. "Too many ages. Good to see you, Perce. This is Nicky — Nikolas Martin. Nicky, this is my brother Percy."

Nicky glances at him, mumbles a hello, and then ducks his head.

Charlie shrugs, because honestly that's better than most people get. He gestures at Nicky to take the chair across from Percy's desk, while Charlie hovers beside them both.

Percy talks to Nicky as he fills out the paper to give Nicky his fourth citizenship — by birth, he was already a citizen of America, from his father, and Romania and France, because Zoelie held dual citizenship by the time Nicky was born.

"So it's easy for you to become a British citizen, because Charlie is your legal guardian, and he's a citizen of Romania and Britain both. And it's even easier, because you're a wizard, and you don't need Muggle citizenship urgently. So you just have to register here, with me, and then we file on your behalf with the Muggles, just so that if anything ever happens, they have a record of you being here as well."

"That… doesn't take away my citizenship anywhere else?"

"Because America, France, and Romania all allow multiple citizenships, no, it doesn't."

"Are there places that don't allow that?"

"Some. India, for example, requires you to renounce citizenship anywhere else to become a citizen there."

"Like, give it up? Completely?"

Percy looks up at him and smiles. "Yes."

"But _why_?"

Percy shrugs slightly, and fills out another line of the form. "I don't know. Maybe they think it's weird that you can be a citizen of a place you don't like. A place you've never lived."

"I like it," NIcky says firmly. "It… it makes me feel connected to maman and dad. Like… like they're still part of me."

Percy puts his quill down, pushes his glasses up his nose, and looks Nicky in the eye. "They are still a part of you. They will always be a part of you. That's not going to change, just like their love for you isn't going to change. I have kids, too. Molly and Lucy. Molly is about your age, actually. And nothing — not even death — could change how much I love them."

Nicky ducks his head, but after a moment, he says softly, "Thanks."

Percy goes back to writing. "You know, you're family now. You're Charlie's family, and that means by default you get the rest of us. And there are a lot of us. If you ever need anything, we're all here." He shrugs. "We're Weasleys. We're protective of our own. And maybe sometimes we forget that, and maybe sometimes we make mistakes, but in the end we're always family."

Charlie can't help but think that time and mistakes have mellowed his brother. He vividly remembers Percy's absence at Bill's wedding and the way it had made his mother weep. He even more vividly remembers Percy silently crying, unable to stop, throughout Fred's funeral.

"Okay!" Percy says, passing the quil to Nicky. "I'm going to need you to sign your full name — Nikolas and not Nicky — right there, and then Charlie is going to sign the line below that, and then I just need to register your wand and you two should be all set."

"Thanks again for this," Charlie says as he signs the indicated line. "You know how I feel about waiting in lines to talk to bureaucrats."

"Hey," Percy says fondly. "I'm a bureaucrat."

Charlie grins at him. "Yeah, but you don't make me wait in line."

"Why do I bother being nice to you when this is the thanks I get?"

The long-suffering exasperation on Percy's face just makes Charlie's smile grow.

"Because you love me?"

Percy's face softens. "I do."

And at that, Charlie's cheshire grin morphs into a gentler smile. "Love you too, Perce. Always."

"It was nice to meet you," Percy says to Nicky. Nicky offers him a small smile in return.

"You, too," he says.

…

It isn't always easy.

Sometimes, Charlie wants to tear his hair out.

Sometimes, he tells Nicky seven times that they're leaving and it's raining and he needs to put on a coat, grab an umbrella, and be ready, and the kid is still in his room with the door closed.

He knocks sharply on the door. "Go away," comes the muffled voice of his sullen teenager.

"Nikolas Martin, get your coat on and get your ass out here. Do not make me repeat myself again."

"You don't get to call me that! You're not my real dad!" Nicky's voice is muffled by his bedroom door. Charlie is angry enough that he wants to spell the door open, but he made a promise, and he can't convince himself that Nicky's safety is at risk, so he won't break it.

Charlie runs a hand through his hair. He needs Nicky for this; they have an appointment at Gringotts to set up his trust there. Goblins won't let him set up and move funds for the kid if _the kid is not there_.

Charlie sinks down to the floor beside Nicky's bedroom door.

"I know I'm not your real dad, kiddo. I know. I'm just trying to be _a dad_ here. I don't think I'm supposed to tell you this, but I have no idea what I'm doing here. Do you think we could figure it out together? Please?"

Slowly, the door creaks open. Nicky looks at him warily, his grey eyes narrowed and skeptical.

"I just wanna go to the bank, dude," Charlie says. His voice is bleeding through with more of his exhaustion than he intends.

"Fine," Nicky says eventually. Charlie praises whatever deity might be listening.

...

A few days later, he takes Nicky to a magical adventuring group, where they take kids out into the wilderness each week and teach them survival skills both magical and Muggle. It seems like a good fit for Nicky, who grew up in the wilds of Romania and loves the outdoors. As soon as he drops him off, he flops down on a bench in the lobby for the adventuring group and sighs. A blonde man at the other end of the bench chuckles.

"I know the feeling," the blonde says.

Charlie huffs a laugh. "I'm not sure you know _quite_ this feeling."

The blonde looks him up and down, slow and sweeping. "Single father, right? Constantly exhausted, no idea what the fuck you're doing?"

A genuine laugh startles from Charlie's chest. "All true, but add in the thrilling saga of 'you're not my real Dad' and also 'you can't discipline me, I'm just a poor little orphan boy.' God, that makes me sound terrible, but those are actual words he has said to me. And that's just the last week."

The man blinks in surprise, and then he smiles slightly. "I'll give you that. I do not know that particular feeling."

"It's a bit soul-crushing, if I'm being perfectly honest." Charlie's tone is cheerful, because he does see the humor in it, but he's also not lying about the soul-crushing bit.

The man seems to understand. He doesn't laugh, but the corner of his mouth twitches.

"I'm Charlie, by the way."

"Draco."

Charlie sighs. "Honestly, it's good to know I'm not the only one trying to do this alone. He's a good kid, but I don't even remember what having time to myself feels like anymore."

"I know the feeling. But then I think about Scorpius leaving for school in September and I don't know what I'm going to do with myself."

"How old is Scorpius?"

"He's eleven. This will be his first year at Hogwarts. We haven't talked about it but I'm pretty sure he's nervous."

"And so are you."

Draco's lips twitch. "I suppose so."

There's something about the man that Charlie finds oddly bewitching. Maybe it's the way he holds himself, both properly upright and ready to flee at the same time. Maybe it's just that there's something familiar in his grey eyes, something that Charlie understands.

Either way, Charlie is still thinking about him two hours later when he goes to pick Nicky up.

He finds the man on the same bench as before, with the same precise posture. His head turns at the noise of Charlie's approach, and a small smile crosses his face.

"Charlie, right?"

Charlie nods. "Hello, Draco."

"Did you enjoy your hours of solitude?" Draco is smirking at him.

Charlie laughs. "Never has the silence in my apartment felt so loud."

Draco huffs out a breath of air, and Charlie can tell it's a half-laugh. "I know the feeling. Scorpius is a talkative kid, but even when he's asleep his presence is so loud."

"Half the time Nicky spends hours in silence and I still never stop being aware that he's there."

"I was never that much of a chatterbox; I swear, he looks just like me, but his personality is all from his mother."

Charlie hesitates, and then, "Do you mind if I ask?"

Draco looks at him, and then says, "She died. Giving birth to Scorpius."

"That sucks," Charlie says, because he doesn't believe in ' _I'm sorry'_ for things like this.

"It was eleven years ago."

"That doesn't mean it doesn't suck."

Draco's mouth twitches. "You're right. But it's a part of me, now, rather than something raw and aching."

Charlie nods. He allows the moment to rest, and then, figuring reciprocation is only fair, he says, "Nicky's parents died in a fire, less than a month ago. As far as they know, it was no one's fault. Shoddy wiring. His mother was my best friend and I miss her every goddamn day. And now I've got this kid that I'm no good with and he's all I've got left of them and I feel like I'm inevitably gonna fuck up and leave him with all kind of scars."

Draco looks down at his hands. "That feeling never really goes away."

At that moment the kids come flooding into the lobby with a wave of noise. Charlie scans and quickly finds a familiar head of dark hair, ducked down and talking to a blonde boy of near equal height.

Nicky looks around and the blonde does at the same time, and then they both head for the bench that Charlie and Draco are sitting on. They pause, exchange a few words, and smile, then come up to the bench.

"Dad! Dad, this is Nicky. He's seen _dragons_." Scorpius — for that must be who he is — says with awe in his voice. Charlie can't help his chuckle. He glances over to see Draco looking fondly at his son.

"Dragons, you say?"

"Real live dragons, Dad! He's seen them breathe fire and everything!"

"That's pretty special. It's very nice to meet you, Nicky."

Nicky just nods calmly, a stark contrast to Scorpius' enthusiasm.

"You ready to go home, kiddo?" Charlie asks him. Nicky glances at him and nods.

Scorpius turns to Nicky. "You're going to be here next week, though, right?"

Nicky glances at Charlie, who nods without hesitation. "I will," Nicky says, with the weight of a promise. Scorpius _beams._

Draco stands, and somehow he does even that with grace. He nods to Charlie, then to Nicky, and Scorpius takes his hand, practically skipping as they walk away. Charlie stands as well, and he and Nicky follow them out to Apparate home.

…

The next week, Charlie is filling out paperwork for adventuring while Nicky looks over his shoulder. While filling out the emergency contact, he fills out his name and under relation he writes Dad.

He knows by Nicky's immediate inhale that this was a mistake, that he's pushing too far too fast, that he should have just sucked it up and written guardian, despite all the stares and pity that tends to get them both.

"You're not my dad," Nicky says insolently.

"I know," Charlie says, tired. They've had this conversation enough times before, and he didn't sleep last night because Nicky had a nightmare, and he's just… tired.

"You're not my dad," Nicky says again, louder.

Charlie is reaching for a pen to cross it out when Nicky says it again, almost yelling this time, and Charlie knows he shouldn't but he is _exhausted_.

"I know, okay?" he snaps. "I know. I'm not your real dad. I'm not Jason. I'm not trying to be! I'm never going to be good enough for you, I know, okay? You don't need to rub it in my face."

He runs a hand over his face, as when he looks up, everyone in the lobby is staring at him. Including Nicky, who is gaping, but not for long, because he quickly darts off down a hallway.

"Fuck," he says under his breath.

Draco appears next to him, seemingly out of nowhere, and says, "Hang on to Scorpius." And then disappears after Nicky.

Scorpius looks up at him. "We're going after them, aren't we?" And that's finally enough to snap Charlie out of his shock and dart after them, Scorpius on his heels.

They find Draco crouching next to Nicky, who is sitting on the floor in a darkened hallway, sniffling slightly.

"Nicky, look at me," Draco is saying. "Now, you're a smart kid. I _know_ you know Charlie isn't trying to replace your first Dad."

Nicky sniffles, and then nods.

"So what's the problem then?"

Nicky looks up at him from under his dark fringe of bangs. "I already have a Dad. Just because he's dead doesn't mean he's not there anymore."

"Would it be easier to call Charlie something else? Pop? Pops? Old man?"

Nicky giggles slightly at the suggestion, and after a moment he nods.

Charlie stares at them in awe. It was that simple, the whole time.

Charlie moves forward, crouching down next to the kid he already considers his son. "Nicky, you can call me whatever you damn well want to call me, okay? I don't care, and I should've made that clear. I loved your mum and dad, and I don't think for a minute that I'm going to replace them, okay? You and me are different than you and your dad, just like you and your dad were different from you and your mum. I mean… you're still my godson, and I'm still in charge of taking care of you, but we can call that whatever we want to call it and the rest of the world can fuck off, if that's what you want."

Nicky looks up at him. He sniffs, and then wipes his eyes. "You were a good godfather. I think you're gonna be a pretty good papa, too."

Charlie is _not_ crying. Absolutely not. He does, however, wrap his arms as best he can around Nicky's shoulders, hugging him fiercely.

"I love you, kid."

Eventually, they settle on sticking with papa, as while Nicky had called his mother the French maman, Jason had always simply been referred to as Dad.

It doesn't make things perfect, because Nicky is still a grieving teenager and Charlie is still a grieving adult. He apologizes to Nicky for yelling at him in front of everyone, but Charlie knows he has a tendency to speak first and regret it later, so he doesn't promise it won't happen again.

But it makes things better.

…

Charlie and Draco find themselves on the same bench after dropping the boys off the next week. After a moment of silence, Charlie says, "Thank you. For last week."

Draco turns, meets his eyes. "I'm glad I could help."

"You're good with him. Nicky. Better than I am."

Draco looks down at his hands. His pale cheeks are faintly flushed. He looks beautiful. "I have years of experience."

"So do loads of people, and that doesn't mean they can see straight through to the heart of the problem like you did."

"Thank you," Draco says eventually.

Charlie hesitates. He's got enough stresses in his life that he's not sure he's ready to add one more. But. He likes Draco, in a way that he hasn't liked anyone in a very long time. And Draco is already good with Nicky, and Nicky and Scorpius get along, and… Charlie's not sure he's going to get a better opportunity than this.

"Feel free to tell me to fuck off if you're not interested, but… would you like to get dinner, sometime? Just us?"

Draco's eyes snap up to Charlie's face, surprise clear in his eyes. "I… what?"

Charlie shrugs. "I like you. I think you're funny, and you're great with my kid and your kid, and I want to get to know you better. If you aren't into guys or whatever, that's fine."

And it is. Fine. That's exactly why Charlie is asking now — because he's not yet in too deep.

Draco is still blinking at him. Still shocked. The silence stretches out long enough that Charlie fidgets.

"Look, I hope I didn't just make things awkward, because Nicky could really use a friend here and—"

"I'd like that. Dinner." Draco interrupts him, but Charlie couldn't really care less. He grins.

"Perfect. Saturday? Does 8 work?"

Draco nods. Charlie's grin grows. "Great. I'll meet you at the Leaky Cauldron then." He gets up and walks away, mostly because he knows Draco is going to be watching him leave. He doesn't glance back to check.

…

Saturday night, Charlie puts on his best jeans (the ones without any burn holes or claw marks in them) and a blue button up Zoe once told him matched his eyes. He drops Nicky off at Percy's (weirdly, when he had asked the kid who he wanted to spend the night with, Percy had been his choice. Charlie takes this as a mark of both how much his brother has grown and how weird his kid is. Percy hadn't hesitated before saying yes). When Percy answers the door, he looks Charlie up and down.

"Wow, you must really like him."

Charlie flushes, tugging at the sleeve of his button up. It's true that he's usually more comfortable in t-shirts, but he'd thought about how Draco always looked perfectly put together and he hadn't been able to resist making an effort.

"Oh, stop fidgeting," Percy scolds lightly. "You look good. Go woo your man."

"Aren't I supposed to be the one who mortally embarrasses you, little brother?"

Percy raises an eyebrow at him. "Good luck with that."

He closes the door, but not before Charlie catches sight of Nicky laughing at him.

"Rude," Charlie mutters under his breath, but in truth the banter has loosened up some of the tension in his shoulders.

He Apparates to the alley between the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley, takes a deep, bracing breath, and enters the pub, looking around for a head of platinum blonde hair.

Draco is at the bar, holding a glass of what appears to be firewhiskey in his hand. Charlie approaches. "Am I that terrifying, that you need liquid courage?"

Draco looks up at him and, seemingly just to be contrary, takes a sip of his drink. Charlie can smell the firewhiskey from here.

"It's not you. It's just… been a long time. Besides, one glass always winds up being more for the taste than anything else."

Charlie nods. "If it helps, it's been a long time for me, too."

Draco smiles wryly at him, and then offers him the half empty tumblr of firewhiskey. Charlie grins and takes it.

"Thanks."

"So, where are we going?"

"How do you feel about Thai food?"

"Sounds wonderful," Draco says. Charlie beams.

"There's this great hole-in-the-wall Thai place just outside of London that I still visit every time I'm home. One of the owners is a squib who was born in Thailand, and her stories are amazing."

Draco smiles softly. "Sounds perfect."

…

Charlie is surprised at how easy the conversation is. They talk about everything. Charlie tells Draco about his job with the dragons (and he rambles about dragons for a while, as he is well known for doing, but Draco just smiles at him indulgently as he rambles). Draco, it turns out, is a potioneer, and he runs a small Apothecary in Diagon Alley, selling ingredients and basic potions. He does more complex potions on order as well. He tells Charlie that he enjoys the brewing and usually lets someone else deal with the customers.

They talk about Hogwarts, for a bit, but Draco seems oddly uncomfortable with the subject when he brings it up, so he lets that drop. It's not like there aren't plenty of other things to talk about. It's not like they don't all have things from that time in their lives that they don't want to talk about. Charlie still has a hard time talking about Fred, even well over two decades later. He's never forgiven himself for _not being there_.

So he lets it go.

They talk about their children. They talk about food, about books, about Quidditch. Draco, it turns out, is a big fan of the Falmouth Falcons. Charlie was a fan of the Appleby Arrows growing up, but these days he mostly supports the Harpies, for his sister, and Puddlemere, for his old teammate, even though Ginny is long since retired and Oliver moved to coaching last year.

They argue over Quidditch, but it's good natured and Charlie is laughing even as he tells Draco how wrong he is.

By the end of dinner, Charlie doesn't really want the date to end. As they walk out of the restaurant, he takes Draco's arm, and Draco smiles down at him. "Can we just walk for a bit?"

It's a nice evening. They're far enough outside of London that they can see some of the stars, and the night air is cool but not cold. They stroll for a bit, sometimes talking, but sometimes just enjoying the silence.

Eventually, Draco says, "Would you like to come back with me and have a glass of wine? Just wine, I promise. There are… some things I should probably say."

Charlie nods. "There are some things I should say, as well."

Draco grips his arm tighter and Disapparates.

They appear in front of a broad set of wrought iron gates which guard vast lawns and what is very clearly a large mansion.

Now, Charlie isn't stupid. The man is named Draco, and his son is named Scorpius. Both of them have high cheekbones and speak with that aristocratic, mouth full of marbles accent. Draco didn't want to talk about Hogwarts.

He was obviously Pureblood, and likely Slytherin. Given his age, Charlie figured he had a decent grasp on what Draco might want to tell him.

But this kind of wealth isn't just Pureblood. It's old money, old family, _centre of the goddamn war_ wealth.

Charlie takes a deep breath. He's made his life believing the past is in the past. He believes that people are the choices they make now, not the choices they've made in the past. Not the choices they regret.

He smiles softly at Draco and follows him inside.

Draco shows him the kitchen as he gets them each a glass of wine, and then they sit in the parlour.

Charlie is not reassured when he sits on the couch and Draco opts to take the chair across from him instead of sitting beside him.

"There are some things you should know. Before this goes too far."

"Draco, we all have a past. You can tell me if you want to, but you don't have to."

Draco looks at him. His grey eyes are indecipherable. "You may not feel that way after I'm done."

Charlie shrugs. "It's up to you."

Draco inspects his face. Charlie isn't sure what he finds there, but after a moment, Draco shoves up his left sleeve.

On the inside of his left forearm is a faint but recognizable scar. The Dark Mark.

"My name is Draco Malfoy. I was a Death Eater in the second war."

Charlie holds his gaze, unflinching. After a moment, Draco goes on. "Because I was underage for most of it, they gave me four years in Azkaban. Four years for the torture of my classmates. For attempting to kidnap Harry Potter and turn him over to Voldemort. For letting Death Eaters into Hogwarts and engineering the death of Albus Dumbledore."

Charlie can see what this is. It's a defense mechanism as much as anything else. It's Draco trying to scare him away now, before he gets too close, before it hurts too much when he learns these things and leaves.

It's also bare honesty. So bare and vulnerable Charlie aches with it.

Charlie says, "I'm pretty sure I killed at least three people during the final battle."

"Death Eaters," Draco says without hesitation.

"Does it matter?" Charlie asks. "They were still people. It still eats at me." He sighs. "Look. We all have mistakes in our past. I don't think you have to let yourself be defined by them. And I'd say it's a good bet that you've lived your life since trying to do better."

"Of course," Draco says.

"That's good enough for me."

Draco is staring at him in awe.

"Thank you."

Charlie shakes his head. "Please, don't thank me for being a decent human being. It makes me despair for the world."

Draco grins, but his grin fades slowly.

"There's one more thing." He seems hesitant, which is weird, because he wasn't hesitant when discussing torture or Azkaban.

"What is it?" Charlie asks, pitching his voice soft so that there's no pressure.

Draco pauses, and then says quickly, "I've never been in a relationship with a man before."

Charlie blinks at him. "That's fine. Were you worried about… God, I'm not an _asshole._ We're doing whatever's comfortable for both of us or we're not doing anything at all."

"I didn't mean it like… Tha—" Draco starts to thank him, and then seems to remember what Charlie just said — and thank god, because Charlie thinks it would _physically hurt him_ to be thanked for saying he's not going to violate basic principles of consent, _Jesus Christ_.

Finally, Draco just says, "All right."

"You done with the things you think I need to know?" Draco nods. "Okay. My turn." Charlie takes a deep breath. He's had this conversation a few times, and it never gets any easier. "I don't like sex. I don't mind it as an abstract concept, but I don't ever really want to participate. It seems weird and sticky and gross and uncomfortable. No, I am not medically ill. No, I do not want you to try to fix me."

Draco blinks at him. "What the fuck. Have people actually said that? What kind of person responds to you saying you don't want sex by trying to force you in the name of fixing you?"

Charlie feels his smile grow slowly across his face. "I knew I liked you."

Draco blushes slightly. "Don't go thanking me for human decency, now," he says, teasingly. Charlie grins.

"Oh, don't worry. I won't. May I kiss you, instead?"

Draco's blush creeps down his neck. Charlie is very glad he isn't the only one of them that does that. He doesn't blush easily, but when he does, it's usually full body.

Charlie stands, moves around the coffee table in the middle of the room, and reaches out a hand to pull Draco up with him. Draco takes it, and Charlie pulls him up and into his arms.

Draco is a good few inches taller than him, so Charlie puts his hand on Draco's cheek and guides his face down. "Is this okay?" Charlie whispers, and they're so close that the air from his words brushes across Draco's face. Draco shivers, and nods. Charlie smiles slightly, and then presses his mouth to Draco's.

He keeps it relatively light and sweet. Draco tastes like the mint he had after dinner. When he pulls away, Draco's face is flushed and his eyes are wide. Charlie can't help but kiss him one more time.

"I should go," Charlie says softly, after he pulls away the second time. "I need to pick up Nicky."

Draco nods, seeming to pull his composure back together.

"Maybe we can do this again next week?" Charlie says, hopeful.

"It is my turn to pick the place, after all," Draco says. Charlie beams.

"I'll see you on Wednesday, Draco."

"Wednesday," Draco agrees.

...

When Charlie drops Nicky off at adventuring on Wednesday, he goes to sit on the bench that he's come to think of as theirs. When Draco walks up, he doesn't quite seem to know how to greet Charlie.

After a moment's hesitation, he kisses Charlie on the cheek, ephemeral but warm, and then sits beside him. Charlie grins at him.

"Hey."

"Hello," Draco says.

"How would you feel about going to Florean's after this with Nicky and Scorpius? I kind of wanted to tell him about this, and I think it would be easier with all of us." He sees the look in Draco's eyes, and he adds, "What I do affects his life. He deserves to know. Besides, how can I expect him to be honest with me if I'm not honest with him? But if you don't want to tell Scorpius just yet, that's fine."

"No, it's not that. I just… meeting the family so soon?" Draco's lips twitch. Charlie can tell it's half a joke and half a deflection, although from what, he's not sure.

"Oh, Nicky is _not_ the family you need to worry about. I have four brothers, and a sister that's more terrifying than the lot of them combined."

Draco looks down at his hands. "Pretty sure I've met most of them. And they are… not my biggest fans."

Charlie blinks at him. "What?"

"You're a Weasley, aren't you? Four brothers is kind of a dead giveaway. And you look a lot like George."

"Hey, I'm older. _He_ looks like _me_."

But Draco is still looking at his hands, and he doesn't laugh.

"Look. They knew who you were. When you were _children_. That's not who you _are_."

"I know that. But it doesn't change how they feel. And it doesn't change that their feelings are justified."

"If they love me as much as I think they do, they will give you a chance to prove yourself. If they don't… does it matter? I love them. They're my family, and I will always love them. But they don't have to approve of my every decision. It's not you or them, and it won't ever be."

Draco looks at him, and then looks away. He looks like he doesn't know what to say. After a moment, he decides on, "Ice cream would be great." And then he rises and disappears.

Charlie is left staring after him, wondering if that went very wrong, or exactly right.

…

But when Charlie shows up to pick up Nicky, Draco is already there, sitting on the same bench. He smiles at Charlie's approach.

"My apologies for leaving so abruptly," he says.

Charlie shrugs. "It's fine. But you can't really just run away every time you have feelings, you know."

Draco's lips twitch. "I know. I'm working on that."

Charlie chuckles. "Okay then."

When Nicky and Scorpius arrive, they arrive attached at the hip, as they have each week. Charlie grins at the both of them.

"How do you boys feel like getting ice cream?"

Scorpius looks at his dad, wide-eyed. "Can we?"

Draco nods, and Scorpius cheers wildly. Nicky smiles at him.

They walk outside and Apparate to Diagon Alley in pairs. The sun is out and it's a rare nice day, so they decide to eat their ice cream outside, sitting on the patio and watching people go by. Scorpius chatters (and damn, Draco was not wrong about how much that kid can talk) and Nicky smiles at him, nodding and occasionally putting in a few words.

After a few minutes, Charlie takes Draco's hand. It's under the table, but the table is the sort of patio furniture that's latticework, filled with holes. It's subtle but not invisible, and he sees the minute Nicky notices.

Nicky looks at him. Charlie nods. Nicky's eyes flicker between the two of them, and then he shrugs, and turns back to Scorpius.

Draco, who has seen all of this, whispers under his breath, "Why do you get the low maintenance one? Unfair."

And that's when Scorpius looks up and sees them. He _squeals_ , actually _squeals_ , the pitch high enough to make Nicky cover his ears. "Oh my god, are you guys dating? Dad! Dad, oh my god."

Luckily, there's only one other person on the patio with them, and the woman looks up and then seems to decide she doesn't care.

"Yes, Scorpius, we are."

"And you didn't _tell me_?"

"It just happened on Saturday, Scorpius. When exactly was I supposed to have told you?"

"Um, immediately, Dad, obviously. This is the first time you've dated since mom died!"

Draco goes bright red. Charlie grins. "Oh, ho. So it really has been a long time."

Scorpius claps his hands over his mouth. "Oops," he says when he puts them down. "Sorry, Dad."

Draco smiles softly at him. "It's quite alright."

"But seriously, oh my god. This is so cool. Can Nicky and I have sleepovers when you guys go out? Aunt Andromeda can watch us; I promise we'll be good." He turns to Nicky without even waiting for an answer. "Aunt Andi's the best. My cousin Teddy lives with her, and he's a metamorphmagus, so sometimes he'll make faces with me. And Aunt Andi always has cookies, so that makes her the best."

Charlie looks at the way Draco smiles fondly at his chatterbox son, and Charlie falls for him just a little bit more.

…

After Charlie takes Nicky to France via Portkey, and Draco takes Scorpius to Platform 9 ¾, Charlie manages to sit in his kitchen alone for maybe an hour before he's sending Draco an owl asking him if he wants to meet for coffee.

When Draco arrives, he's laughing. "Honestly, you lasted longer than I thought you would."

Charlie scowls at him. "Rude," he says, but he's laughing too as he hands Draco the coffee he ordered for him.

"So, what are you going to do with yourself now that you've all this free time?"

Charlie sighs. "I've been thinking about it. My job in Romania would take me back. But I've now got this pretty great incentive to stay in England. And my family is here, and I miss them. And honestly, 42 is getting a little old to be wrangling dragons. I love them, but I don't have the reflexes I used to."

Draco raises an eyebrow at him. "Go on."

"I thought maybe I'd write a book. About dragons. And I've always kind of wanted to run a marathon. And skydive. Maybe I'll teach. The world is my goddamn oyster." He leans forward, taking Draco's hand.

"I want to see where this goes," he says. "If that's okay with you."

"Honestly?" Draco says. "That sounds perfect."

And it does.


End file.
